


as we cross ten leagues from a rubicon

by light_rises



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mind Control, Sibling Love, Siblings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light_rises/pseuds/light_rises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You mother notices - as if she wouldn't - but the little rebellions settle in and simmer, remain there, keeping something akin to the peace. Which is the only reason you stay with that tack as long as you do, because it <i>stifles</i>. It pokes a lioness with a stick instead of the Winchester you suspect she deserves and <i>that's not you</i>.</p><p>But it's not just you under her roof and rule. And better a stick than nothing at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as we cross ten leagues from a rubicon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bladeCleaner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeCleaner/gifts).



> This story wound up taking a life of its own, but I had a lot of fun wrangling it together. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it, dear prompter (even through all the more harrowing bits)!

It starts off small, as most things do.

You are small yourself, in fact. Not as small as small goes when compared to, say, your brother, but the Child sort of small is what matters to your mother. What matters to all mothers, she insists - it's the age of being trussed up and paraded about as gay little satellites to maternal pride, making one's children as shiny and presentable as their dollars can be stretched to take them. And Mother has a _lot_ of dollars at her disposal. One of the smaller ways to keep that green rolling in, she says, is to doll you and yours up for big events. Social events, where "making waves" is a currency the attending grownups deal in. (Your mother talks about making waves a lot.)

Tonight's party feels enough like the rest. John discovered playing cards three days ago and he's taken off with some of the other kids to show off the tricks he's been trying to master. He's... not very good, but you want to see! Especially if you need to give someone a good whap to the arm for giving him a hard time about it.

Your mother has other plans. She leaves John to his alcove and his audience with a tinkling laugh and takes you by the arm. Her nails give an extra press to the inside of your wrist when you look back; she leaves behind three neat, angry little halfmoons next to the jut of tendon.

There's a line of very important adults she wants you to see, or so it seems. They keep coming, one couple, then another, then a woman, then a man - doting on you one moment, talking Business with Mother the rest. You're a frilly balloon she's toting around for whatever reason (" _big waves_ " the words sing, echoing sharp and sibilant in your head), and as she's busy talking up a couple whose smiles don't reach their eyes the thought finally sinks in, like a stone that's found its way to the ocean floor with a soft _plop_.

You hate this.

You've always hated it, at least a little bit. But you've never had to go at it alone before. A flash of envy prickles your gut - _why didnt she make john come along this time too?_ \- but how much you don't want to do this right now, not to do this ever again, rises up around it and sweeps it into a corner.

Could you make a run for it? You gauge the grip she has on you, long fingers hitched up now to encircle your hand. The nail-crescents have become ghosts and your throat squeezes. If there's one thing your mother has in spades it's quick reflexes, quicker than you suspect even Halley can track. Damn it.

Mother looks down and your face snaps back into pleasant neutrality ( _why though, what is even the point_ ). You smooth your skirt with a grace you don't feel at your core. The material bleeds and blooms in lace and satin beneath your fingertips, Crocker brand red to match the bow at your back.

It occurs to you that your dress feels cinched a little too tight at the waist.

Relocking gazes with Mother, you make sure to turn up the wattage on your smile as you undo the bow and rip it from the loops of your dress with your free hand.

~*~

JOHN: i guess i am just not seeing the point here, you know?

It's an unusual meeting time and place, because you're used to sneaking up to John's bedroom after curfew and poking him in the ribs until he rouses (and mumbles some choice words at you, but hey, whatever gets the job done!). But this time he's caught you at the tail end of your morning routine, after Mother herself has finished gussying up Miss Jadine Rae Crocker for the day.

More specifically, he's caught you undoing the braid and stripping off the ribbons she had just pleated into it.

You lend John a very DEEP SIGH from your perch at the foot of your bed.

JADE: the point, as i see it, is a very simple one john...

You punctuate the faux-primness by flopping backwards, going half spreadeagled. Your hair fans out of its own accord, all length and pitch and bottle-brush frizz.

JADE: i have given my hair and the styling thereof lots of serious thought, and have come to the conclusion...  
JADE: that i like it better this way!   
JOHN: which you only figured out AFTER mother took over doing your hair from the servants.   
JADE: yes   
JOHN: pssssh.  
JOHN: jade, please.   
JADE: i can HEAR you rolling your eyes over there john :p   
JOHN: it is just so silly!   
JADE: caaaare to say that to my face? >:p   
JOHN: wiiiith pleasure.

He pads over from the doorway to your bed (or you hear him do that, rather). Your mattress bounces with the added weight and his face pops into view as he leans a little sideways, a little back. It strikes you as it does sometimes how much you and he share faces, adoption be damned - same button noses spread broad, dusky apple cheeks and fuzzy brows that stick out a bit. Your face is a little longer and John's pinches just an extra touch around the eyes, in something like mischief. Which is being emphasized with the way he's smiling right now. Uh oh.

(You suppress the eyeroll. _God_ do you have him in your sights.)

JOHN: as i was saying, this whole whatever you are drumming up strikes me as kind of...

He leans farther back, the heels of his hands inching forward.

JOHN: a little bit...

Aaaaand here's the turn.

JOHN: _silly!!!_ >:D

You let him have the head start and the peals of laughter he extracts from tickling your sides for a sound five seconds. Bets are off after that though. It's not your fault you're just that much faster and John keeps forgetting to shield his tummy during tickle skirmishes!

He's reduced to gasping paroxysms by minute's end and is about ready to roll off the bed. Because you're feeling nice you reel him back in before he does.

JADE: victorious again!!! whoop whoop   
JOHN: ohhhh don't... get too cocky...  
JOHN: i will win one yet jade, you can consider... that...  
JOHN: a PROMISE.  
JOHN: wheww.   
JADE: heheh  
JADE: you may consider _yourself_ cordially invited to do just that ;)

He scoffs again, but there's something warm tugging at his eyes that isn't from almost laughing himself off the bed, and it warms you too. He knows you mean it. If Mother isn't going to bother telling John he is anything but incorrigible, it might as well be you.

You lay side-by-side while John finishes catching his breath. The interim allows for a silence that's mostly comfortable, but you feel the tension - a wrinkle, slight and conspicuous and festooned with what got John talking to you in the first place. You can't bring yourself to hope he will let the subject drop.

JOHN: are you doing it because you miss the colonel?   
JADE: what?   
JOHN: i mean don't get me wrong, i miss the colonel too!  
JOHN: ... a lot sometimes.  
JOHN: but i don't think that means it's okay to take it out on mother.   
JADE: sigh  
JADE: john, its... you dont understand  
JADE: which i dont really understand myself?? mother is not exactly very nice to you either   
JOHN: well. no.  
JOHN: but sometimes she is, and she used to be nice all the time! especially before poppop died.

He stops and you both go stiff for a moment. Neither of you have been allowed to call the Colonel "Poppop" for a long time, all the way back into the last few months of his life. John eventually exhales and scratches the side of his neck, almost sheepish.

JOHN: and, well... i guess that's the thing right there.   
JADE: what thing?   
JOHN: that mother has been through a lot too! heck, even now...  
JOHN: have you noticed the way all those businessmen LOOK at her? it is almost like-   
JADE: believe me john  
JADE: ive noticed :\   
JOHN: :(   
JADE: okay! all right, granted that running a baking empire as a woman is  
JADE: pretty far from all glamour  
JADE: its just that all that, the colonel dying-  
JADE: i dont think it justifies how she treats people sometimes  
JADE: ....... a lot of the time, really

John frowns and hums indistinctly, turning his gaze to the ceiling. He shifts position only a little bit, but it's enough that you could call it an uncomfortable squirm.

JOHN: say, jade?   
JADE: hmm?   
JOHN: what was it that mother said to you?  
JOHN: after the whole... you know. the thing at the party last week.

You tense up on reflex. It's time to weigh your options, and the fact that you're doing this at all scares you. John is your brother - you're proud to call him that - and in spite of it all he has his heart in the right place. But can you trust him?

A lap full of dog presents itself to you and that train of thought is as good as off the rails.

JOHN: halley!!   
JADE: no no its all right! ill make sure to clean the sheets later

You sit up to give Halley a proper two-handed scritch behind the ears. He pulls away after a moment to deliver a look and a head tilt, curious through the slobbery smiles, before he dives back in to snuffle your hair.

JOHN: pffffff.   
JADE: see john, at least _halley_ likes my hair this way u_u   
JOHN: he is probably wondering if your hair is another dog.   
JADE: >:o!!! RUDE john   
JOHN: no, you see...  
JOHN: if you grow your hair out long enough, you could conceivably disguise yourself as a large dog.  
JOHN: which would be an impractical thing to do, yet COMPLETELY HILARIOUS.   
JADE: and by all that do you mean it would be an impractical yet COMPLETELY HILARIOUS prank??   
JOHN: :D   
JADE: oh my goodness   
JOHN: land sakes alive, we are cooking with petrol now!!

You both laugh, remembering a smidgen belatedly to keep it down. Halley detaches himself from your hair long enough to pay John a visit, and John's smile goes lopsided as he gives Halley a good rub at the scruff of his neck (awww see, he _totally_ loves Halley too).

JOHN: so...  
JOHN: does this mean you are going to keep your hair down from now on?   
JADE: :O! hmmmm......  
JADE: well, as much as i like it...  
JADE: i dont think thats a thing i could do right now   
JOHN: oh?   
JADE: even on something short of a regular basis i have a feeling it might be, well  
JADE: a liiiittle too audacious

( _for now_ , you add to yourself. Keep it small; start small. Build it up, brick by brick. Jape into spate.)

JADE: ....... although   
JOHN: :?

You raise a finger and scramble off the bed. It gains a waggle as you skip to your vanity, then disappears into a drawer you've opened with your other hand.

Both emerge a moment later brimming with lithe little ribbons. John's eyes widen at what you assume is the array of colors (since there are a _lot_ and, well. Red is the Crocker household mainstay, full stop).

JADE: mmaaaaybe i could spice up the way i accessorize a bit!   
JOHN: 8O   
JADE: ;)   
JOHN: where did you even get all those????   
JADE: ;)   
JOHN: :I  
JOHN: you're never going to tell me are you.   
JADE: maybe someday...  
JADE: if you ask extra and very nicely!   
JOHN: 8T   
JADE: hehehe

You beckon Halley to stop using John as a warm and slightly undersized doggy bed as you return with the ribbons.

JADE: red isnt really my color :)  
JADE: its complement might do the trick though.....   
JOHN: what about the blue one? i think that would suit you.   
JADE: oooo  
JADE: wait, what if we put them back to back and braid them together?   
JOHN: okay!   
JADE: :D

(As you suspected, John has had precisely zero experience with braiding. You take over that duty _tout suite_ but BOY does he have a knack for making pretty ribbons stick together. Which is more than all right by you.)

~*~

Keep it small; start small.

This is how you will go about it for a while, in part because you're still feeling things out. In other part because you don't want to act the beacon again ( _not yet_ , not yet), to draw undue attention, in case you really wouldn't have anything to stand on except grit and dogged integrity, much less a leg. You try to pretend as much as possible that it's mostly the other part.

And anyway, little rebellions are fun! For a given definition thereof. You follow in the ribbons' footsteps and try acting the passive-aggressive saboteur. All signs point to "subtle" there, right?

A botched baking lesson here. A pup-versus-piscine battle of the puns there. Hell, dishes that exceed Mother's stratospheric yet fickle expectations.

( _That twitch she flickers into a smile like quicksilver but reads too tight at the corners anyway. You preen quietly, then laugh the rest into Halley's flanks when it's late, all glee and incremental triumph._ )

More greens and blues, crowning your head and cakes with perfect frost rosettes. Lavender sneaks in snatch by dollop through the back door. Then red again, in scraps, darker than Crocker red both in deliberation and none at all.

You mother notices - as if she wouldn't - but the little rebellions settle in and simmer, remain there, keeping something akin to the peace. Which is the only reason you stay with that tack as long as you do, because it _stifles_. It pokes a lioness with a stick instead of the Winchester you suspect she deserves and _that's not you_.

But it's not just you under her roof and rule. And better a stick than nothing at all.

(Brick by brick. Jape into spate.)

~*~

The shift happens when she's finalizing a new cake mix. It's some sort of angel food cake with rainbow sprinkles, and you couldn't care less aside from the fact that she seems to be deriving a special sort of delight from snagging the sprinkle patent. Even John has thought to comment on how weird it is.

It's a standard afternoon and you don't know what prompts the action at first, considering you and she are in the thick of yet another lesson in mass baked goodery, when she turns to you and says:

MOTHER: yknow luv  
MOTHER: you might look a touch less dour if you went and let all that head noise  
MOTHER: weigh anchor

then undoes the bun she herself had tucked your hair into.

The meaning hits you a mite too late to stop it altogether. Of _course_ she did it right then to throw you off! Ugh.

You check on John in your peripheral and note that he is doing an admirable yet very bad impression of Being Incredibly Busy And Studious in the breakfast nook.

MOTHER: oh oh!!!  
MOTHER: and since hair flotsam seems to be your In item of late.....  
MOTHER: how aboat _this_ for a change? 38)

She hands you a headband with great care, the sort most people would mistake for sincere. It's red, That Red, but it shimmers like chrome on top and is riddled with herringbone patterns underneath.

You snap it neatly in two with every intention of casting it down, startling back when it sparks in your fingers.

Somehow you manage not to scream.

Halley barks from another part of the house and trots in as you stick your fingers in your mouth. John isn't even trying for pretense anymore, gaping outright. The needle-sharp stinging squeezes your eyes shut, long enough to hear your mother order John and Halley out of the kitchen and the clamor of them acquiescing.

She's in your field of vision when you open them again, her face pleasant and unctuous and stretched so so thin. You're not giving her the satisfaction of seeing you pinched up in pain, so you contort it into the deepest scowl you can manage. It's easier than you thought it would be.

Mother ghosts your cheek with hers as her voice slides low into your ear.

MOTHER: let that be a lesson chummaggot  
MOTHER: in how searious you should be takin me

Then she dusts the flour off her apron, gathering the broken headband into it. She saunters off with a hum and no indication that anything had happened, not even the baking.

Your first regret is immediate - you didn't spit her in the eye when you had the chance.

The second is right on its heels though, and you have to make do with memories of how the headband felt in your hands, the way it shot out electricity in spiderweb tines.

~*~

There's a few good acres of land reserved for target practice on the Crocker Estate, and next to it a small clearing nestled in the woods surrounding the rest of your house. This is where you set off to that night, to think, to research.

John emerges from the trees sometime later and you almost blow his chest clean open for it.

JOHN: JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH JADE, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!!!!   
JADE: WELL IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE IF YOUD _SAID SOMETHING FIRST_ YOU BIG DUMMY!!!!!  >:C

John exhales and lowers his hand from his heart as you do the same with your rifle. He lets a few beats pass before sitting down beside you and the small tower of books you've toted along. His eyes regard you carefully as you flex your fingers, wincing.

JOHN: how are they doing?   
JADE: mmm  
JADE: they will probably blister and i cant say thats going to be a lot of fun to deal with, but itll be fine  
JADE: this isnt anything like when i spilled all that hot oil on my foot last summer   
JOHN: ha ha. yeah.

You return to your book, turning a couple more pages without really absorbing them. You don't know how much of that has to do with John stewing in awkward silence or the streams of thought knocking about your head right now.

JOHN: ... jade.   
JADE: yes?   
JOHN: i don't  
JOHN: sigh.  
JOHN: i don't really know what to say about any of this.   
JADE: ... to be honest, john.....  
JADE: i dont either  
JADE: and believe it or not that is _exactly_ what im trying to figure out!   
JOHN: ...  
JOHN: heh.   
JADE: :?   
JOHN: that is just  
JOHN: so YOU.  
JOHN: you're always trying to puzzle things out, take them apart piece by piece if you have to...  
JOHN: even when you have nothing to go off of!  
JOHN: i don't think i have ever met anyone as stubborn about figuring out the world as you, jade.

It takes you a moment to parse that John means all of this fondly, because there's something else to it. It shifts into better focus when he looks away, gently slumped with something that reads like... shame? Oh dear.

You worry your bottom lip until a sudden crest of _you know what?? i dont care!_ outstrips the rest. You _want_ to trust him, and you damn well can if you so choose.

You sling an arm across his shoulders, which he mirrors after a startled pause. You lean into each other, sides pressed. It's warm for a little while.

JADE: to be completely fair.......  
JADE: i DEFINITELY have something to go off of this time   
JOHN: you mean that weird headband?   
JADE: yes!  
JADE: .... well  
JADE: and maybe more than just that  
JADE: at least now that i have something like confirmation   
JOHN: confirmation? what do you mean by that?

You draw in a long breath. Trust is what you've sided with here, and so trust it is.

You tell him what happened that night, after you ruined your dress at the party.

~*~

As you're wrapping up, Halley wanders into the clearing as well. (Somehow. It's a penchant of his, nonchalantly sneaking out of the house. John insists for the umpteenth time that Halley should have been named "Houdini" instead and you smack him on the arm.)

Halley has come bearing a gift. It's in the form of a gizmo that is unmistakably of your mother's doing, even though you've never seen it before. Further investigation reveals that it is some kind of recording device (DAMN), which you coax into playing back voices that sound suspiciously like the conversation you and John just finished having.

You destroy it, give it a proper burial - partly in the ground, partly in your knapsack - then team up with John to catch a rabbit for Halley's midnight snack.

( _Good dog, best friend._ )

~*~

At one point while you, John and Halley are picking your way back home, John begins to slow up, little by little, until he's reached a complete stop. You backtrack and ask him what's the matter.

JOHN: it was just hitting me...  
JOHN: mom's new cake mix? is the WORST piece of commercial grade shit i have ever tasted.   
JADE: :OOO   
JOHN: it's true!!  
JOHN: i am not even going to soft pedal it with wily euphemisms or some such, that rainbow cake is  
JOHN: unmitigated  
JOHN: _shit_.   
JADE: wow   
JOHN: yes.

You don't know what on earth to do with John's affronted sincerity except to laugh. So laugh you do.

Laugh until an idea hits you, just wicked and outrageous enough to work.

You lean into John's ear with hushed and ridiculous and buoyant conspiracy.

JADE: (we should make the cake she is baking for the governors ball _explode_!!!!)

It's been a while since John's face has gone from wounded to devilishly elated in two seconds flat. You doubt you've been gladder to see it.

~*~

It's not every day you're able to apply your side studies and a dash of your mother's own fledgling technology towards the end of ruining one of her big affairs, and it is nothing short of glorious. John's input on the front of "intermediate japery" serves as both the icing and a chunk of the filling to the cake you so handsomely destroyed (hehehehehehe). Not going it alone in thwarting your mother's authority for once is... more than a little nice.

When she confronts you both at home after the fact, she's still dripping from head to toe with frosting and cake bits spanning the color spectrum. It's the funniest thing in the world until she slams John's face against the wall.

JADE: john!! D:

John stumbles from the wall, disoriented and down one pair of intact specs.

MOTHER: and just _WHAT in the motherFUCK were you thinkin_

You breach the gap between them before she's advanced more than another step.

JADE: leave him out of this, the cake was my idea!! i made him go along with it   
MOTHER: what about THAT is supposed to sway me here exactly?   
JADE: im the big sister! im supposed to know better than to have dragged him into this   
MOTHER: _)(A_  
MOTHER: funny that   
JADE: what?   
MOTHER: how family suddenly ~~means somefin~ to you  
MOTHER: i e slong as it dont involve that poor ol mother of yours  
MOTHER: i e i e me   
JOHN: jade...

John is back at your side, his nose looking a little worse for wear. There's effort to it, but he's starting to position himself into a strifing pose.

JADE: (jooohn stand down :((( i can take care of her on my own)   
JOHN: (maybe, but what kind of brother would i be if i let you take on that witch on your own?)   
JADE: (a brother i wouldnt think anything less of!! you dont have to fight her if you dont want to)   
JOHN: (but i DO want to!)   
MOTHER: newsflash that you are both CODDAMNED AWFUL at whisperin when its gonna do you any good  
MOTHER: speakin of how bout you both _s)(ut up_

Before either of you can move, she decaptchalogues something that looks like a dual-ended trident and vaults it. Your right wrist and John's left are snagged between the prongs mid-trajectory, pinning you both against the wall they embed themselves into.

Mother closes in until she's almost nose-to-nose with you. Her grin cuts like shark's teeth.

MOTHER: so now  
MOTHER: should the baroness expect a nice long spate of betta behavior from here on?

You answer her with a resounding headbutt.

The explosion of stars leaves you as good as blind for a snatch of heartbeats, but as they clear you can't help drawing a gasp.

John doesn't gasp, but the tenor of his voice says it all.

JOHN: it's true. jesus christ.

Your mother prods at the tear in her mask, gray beneath warm dusk. For a glimmering moment something unfamiliar ruffles her features. It might even be shock.

She smooths it over into looking vaguely annoyed.

MOTHER: aright  
MOTHER: cant hurt to have a little more fun now, can it

Another decaptchalogue. She equips a tiara, a V of gold pressed to her marred forehead. Her eyes slide shut as she raises an arm, thumb and index finger poised together.

One snap, and Halley is at the doorway.

Another snap, and he's sicced on John.

It's not an immediate attack - the first thing Halley does is pin John good and well against the wall, forepaws pressed to his shoulders. But then Halley turns his head, hitches open his jaws, encircles them precariously around John's neck.

JADE: STOP IT!!!  
JADE: halley get down, please!!!   
MOTHER: not gonna do ya any good girly   
JADE: SHUT UP!!  
JADE: i dont know what shes doing to you halley but you have to fight it, you need to stop!  
JADE: halley please... :(   
JOHN: halley, _what_ -

He's cut off by Halley cinching his windpipe. You shout, trying to push Halley off with your free arm, but it only earns you a pained wheeze from John.

MOTHER: nice job makin it worse luv   
JADE: why are you doing this????

She arches one perfectly-manicured brow at you, lips pursed.

MOTHER: you say that like you dont already know

And it washes over you that yes. Yes, you do.

Tonight wasn't about John and his misdeeds, it was about you. It was all about you. About keeping you in check, using whatever means necessary, improbable in execution or otherwise.

It was about leverage, _her_ leverage, and how she's lording that over you right now.

You have nothing, not even your gun and _why don't you have it_ , why didn't you equip your sylladex when you had the chance earlier today, stupid stupid _**stupid**_.

MOTHER: the nights not gettin any younger yknow

And just like that your anger pools, down to your stomach. It gains shape and solidity, and you siphon it back out as cold fury.

JADE: if you kill him  
JADE: you will never be able to make me do anything you say ever again

You know it's a little hollow, that she could retort with "shore but i doubt youre any more keen on him getting _hurt_ ". But it's okay, you'll _make_ it okay, because you have plenty of venom to spare.

MOTHER: ...  
MOTHER: aright  
MOTHER: fair enough

One last snap. Halley's down in a flash and John gasps, free hand shooting up to rub his throat. You gently snatch the side of his face and he nods at you, if a little dazedly.

MOTHER: hmmm... looks like a nice night out  
MOTHER: how about some walkies buoy?

Halley follows her out the kitchen, tail wagging. Although there wasn't another snap, your skin crawls with suspicion.

You and John work away at the trident, fast stepping up to frantic. There's no use detaching it from the wall, but then John remembers he's packing blood pellets and sacrifices their slippery payload to help your wrists shimmy through the prongs.

You've only just made it outside when a yelp cuts through the air, sharp and braying. It peaks and then drops off into nothing, nothing at all, not even a low keen.

You blood goes so cold you don't think you'll ever move again.

Ahead of you, the baroness emerges from behind a tool shed set towards the edge of the backyard, a remnant from when the estate was a modest plot. She approaches you bearing another trident, prongs slick with red from tip to curve.

John doesn't seem to know what to do except press his shoulder against yours, his throat working visibly.

Your eyes are blurring as the baroness draws near. She rests a hand on your shoulder, the gentlest she's ever been in that regard.

MOTHER: word to the wise: never be anything less than perfectly spacific  
MOTHER: you never did say which "him" after all

She walks away, like she always does, and you don't think you have ever hated anyone more.

~*~

_well.......  
right after i tore out the bow, mother laughed it off in front of everyone and excused herself  
i think you saw that part, right?_   
_yeah, i remember that!_   
_mmmm so... she was still acting very nice about the fact that she was taking me aside to talk, with the way she held my hand and everything  
which made sense to me! there were a lot of people around and she wasnt going to get any privacy until she had led us out of the main ballroom  
but the thing is...  
when she found us a private side room, she was_ still _nice to me  
the nicest i have seen her in a long time, or since  
it was SO so unnerving and strange, i couldnt wait until she was done talking to me >_<_  
 _wait, so you mean, like...  
you don't think mother was being_ honestly _nice to you?_  
_well.... i might have believed it  
if not for what she told me next_

~*~

You don't see hide nor hair of John for much of the next day. It prickles your spine with worry, but the feeling waxes and wanes. For all that happened last night, you're able to take the baroness' word for it that she won't lay a hand on John so long as you behave. At least not towards the end of doing him in.

It's nearing sunset when you've screwed up the courage to head out back, and you almost run headlong into John in the mud room.

JADE: oh my gosh THERE you are!! where were you all day?   
JOHN: mother was getting me some new specs.   
JADE: :o! oh

Sure enough he's sporting a new pair, the frames a fancy ruby red (how very shocking). They look nice enough on him, you guess.

The distraction loses its sheen and you sigh, feeling uncommonly awkward for a moment.

JADE: ...... im going outside to give halley a burial :(  
JADE: do you want to help?

He shrugs and says nothing, but he moves to open the door for you. His expression is unreadable as he follows you outside, but you're not too bothered. John is just that way sometimes, especially when the worst happens.

~*~

_she told me everything john  
or at least as close to everything as she was going to tell an eleven year old  
but way more than she has told most people, i suspect_   
_... even the colonel?_   
especially _the colonel_  
_:OO_

~*~

The next hour or so is somehow even less pleasant than the night before, but it's to be expected. You and John dig the hole, place Halley into it (with his wounds facing down; it looks more like he's sleeping this way), then pile the soil back on into the neatest mound you can manage. You secure a marker you've been working on since this morning at the head of the grave too. It feels nicer this way, a little less like how everything went down last night.

You both stand there for a while, silent, John still leaning on his shovel. It's overcast and the air is stiller than it has any right to be.

JADE: well... ive never been to a funeral before, so i am a little at a loss here...  
JADE: but i think we are supposed to say a few words about the deceased and such  
JADE: john, do you have anything to say about halley?

John shrugs again, switching the shovel to his other hand.

JOHN: what is there to say? we did something stupid, mother got mad, halley died.  
JOHN: it's a pretty straight forward chain of events.

You whirl on him, certain you look about as gut-punched as you feel.

JADE: john  
JADE: what in the _HELL_   
JOHN: whoa whoa, take it easy!! jeez.  
JOHN: i just don't see what the big deal is here.

You narrowly rein in the urge to punch him in the neck. John just sighs and looks away, his mouth crimping with boredom.

JOHN: are we done here? it's getting dark.   
JADE: ............ i guess, yeah

As you both head back, you wonder if it's strange that this is the first time you have ever felt beyond crying.

~*~

_she told me she isnt human  
that she is an alien, the last of her kind_   
_wait, you mean like an extraterrestrial??_   
_mmhmmm!_   
_:OOOOO_   
_she is very very old, however much she doesnt look it, but shes only been stranded here for about as long as she has been married to the colonel_   
_how did she get stranded?_   
_she didnt say :/  
by the sound of it though she suffered a tremendous defeat on her home planet  
which is to say, it was completely destroyed_   
_oh man.  
if that's true, it sounds like she has lost a lot...  
heck, she's lost_ everything.  
_mmmm  
yeah_   
_i don't know what i would even do about that, if it were me. :(_   
_weeell because it was HER  
the answer basically amounts to "slowly but surely mount a full scale invasion of planet earth"_   
_what!!!!!_

~*~

The next day is a Sunday and it's spent at target practice. Target practice and only target practice, because it's the one thing that helps clear your head apart from your personal studies.

You've shot 143 disks to smithereens and you STILL don't know what is going on with John, much less what to do about it.

You know John can be callous. You know that and have taken him by the shoulders because of it, more than once. But you know to the depths of your marrow that he's anything _but_ heartless, and you saw for yourself that he was upset about Halley too, if in his own way.

Did the baroness scare him into assuming this... whatever it is? But fearing for himself is the exact possibility she had promised to eliminate. Maybe he doesn't believe her?

It's hard to see that as consonant with the boy who got up and vowed to fight alongside you after she threw him against a wall, though.

You take aim at another disk. As it shatters, a thought blooms across your mind, cold and awful.

Has John always been her right hand? Was he just playing along with you, entreating you to trust him whenever it needed doing, all to get you into even bigger trouble? To arm-twist you into behaving?

 _no!!!!!!_ You release three more disks, smashing them in the quickest succession you can manage. John is a halfway horrible liar for one - he couldn't have kept up a facade like this, not for so long - and for another you just... you don't want to _think_ that he could...

You empty the remaining shell from your rifle and drop to the ground, hissing frustration. It doesn't add up. Maybe a part of that is just you wanting to believe in John, to believe in the best of him, but _it just doesn't add up_.

You sit and you think, you think, you think. What will make it add up? There's always something, isn't there?

You push up your glasses - and the thought hits you broadside.

_... How fancy were those specs again?_

You get up, recaptchalogue your rifle, then break into a full-tilt run before you've gone ten steps.

You have some goddamn serious research ahead of you.

~*~

_like i said, she is the last of her kind  
but she has absolutely no intention of letting it stay that way_   
_iiii'm not sure i follow?_   
_she wants to revitalize her species john  
to bring them back, or at least to start over  
but she wants to do it on earth and shes going to do whatever it takes to make it happen  
up to and including the enslavement of the human race :C_   
_..._   
_yeah_   
_jesus._

~*~

On Tuesday you catch John in the kitchen, knapsack in hand. He seems to be caught up in admiring a box of the baroness' latest cake mix.

( _Wow_.)

JADE: hey, john?   
JOHN: hmm?   
JADE: do you think we could talk for a bit?   
JOHN: :\ we could talk at pretty much any time, jade. it's not rocket science.   
JADE: nooo no no, i mean...  
JADE: the two of us having an outing of sorts! in that clearing next to the firing range  
JADE: there will be lots of snacks, and they are all certified crocker brand products c:   
JOHN: ...  
JOHN: i guess that would be fine, yeah.

You smile brightly and turn, taking the lead outside.

~*~

_okay, but...  
why would she tell you all this? all things and weird alien secrecy hoopla considered._   
_to scare me, probably  
and maybe a little more than that  
i mean who is going to believe a little girl who could just as well be making up stories because shes angry at her mother??  
especially when those stories are so  
well_   
_outrageous?_   
_yeah :T_   
_but you think she was telling you the truth?_   
_as of now...  
i wouldnt bet against it_   
_..._

~*~

Five minutes into your outing and John has already tried to land a punch on you.

JOHN: i can't believe you thought i didn't see through that!!  
JOHN: you have no idea how much of a piss poor liar you are, do you jade?   
JADE: john, it doesnt have to be like this!   
JOHN: are you kidding, it's GREAT like this!  
JOHN: and you know what would make it even greater, jade? if you just STOPPED AND GAVE MOTHER THE TIME OF DAY.  
JOHN: do you know how much easier it would be if you just LISTENED to her and went along with whatever she wants??  
JOHN: she is older and she is our mother! she _knows better_ , jade.   
JADE: i cant do that!!!!   
JOHN: can't do _what_?   
JADE: LISTEN TO HER  
JADE: not any more  
JADE: and never again  
JADE: _ever_  
JADE: for one, look at what she did to halley, what shes done to you...   
JOHN: "done to me"??? it was a FAVOR, jade.  
JOHN: she has given me exactly what i've needed all along.  
JOHN: like the fact that i can fight you now!

He throws a few more kicks and jabs, halfway relentless, and you have to concede that he's right. John's highjacked free will has imbued him with an extra edge in hand-to-hand. You've never been this evenly matched before.

But it's okay. It's fine. It just means you'll have to be a little trickier.

(And be willing to do more than just dodge hits.)

~*~

_so basically... and assuming she is telling the truth...  
our mother is very, very bad news._   
_yes :(  
though i guess she would be that even if she WERE lying  
especially if she were lying_   
_...  
yeah. :c_

~*~

Your opening comes when he tries for a low punch that you leap to avoid, leap without coming back down right away. He had backed you into a tree, and now you're prepped to use it as a springboard.

He isn't prepared for a kick to the face at this sort of proximity.

You silently apologize a split-second before you connect.

~*~

_i think...  
someone has to make sure she is stopped  
if not at all costs, however much we can spare in good conscience_   
_... i think you might be right._

~*~

On the forest floor, there is a pair of broken specs sparking uselessly on the ground - shot through more than a few times - and a boy cradling his head in his hands.

At length he looks up at you and rubs his eyes, as if coming to from a dream.

JOHN: ... jade...   
JADE: john... ?   
JOHN: what the hell did i just _do_?  
JOHN: holy shit, what happened to YOU?? are you okay?

You sigh with a relief that all but takes your knees out from under you.

JADE: it doesnt matter  
JADE: i just couldnt let her take you away too, you big dummy :')

You hunker down to wrap John in a hug that seems to confuse him at first, but it's eventually returned with gusto.

~*~

It's your thirteenth birthday, and tonight is the night you are going to leave the Crocker Estate for good.

It's tempting not to pack light - your time here has afforded you access to an enviable variety of texts and literature, after all - but you decide against it. There's plenty of other ways to give the Supreme Asshole among alien fish beings the jabs of comeuppance she so richly deserves, and you think you are well on your way with the few trinkets you _have_ pilfered.

John has come up to pay a visit as you're about ready to close the suitcase.

JADE: you can come too you know :O   
JOHN: man, you have NO IDEA how much i would love to...   
JADE: but?   
JOHN: but with you gone and the old lady liable to get spitting mad about the whole affair, i think someone has to stay here to keep an eye on her!  
JOHN: or at least to try to keep her hands a little tied.   
JADE: pfffehehe, i guess that is a good point  
JADE: ... are you going to be okay?

John shrugs, nonchalant and easy.

JOHN: i'll find a way to muddle through. :)  
JOHN: and you...   
JADE: bluhhh joooohn you dont need to worry about me!! i have plans percolating, remember?   
JOHN: oh, i know that!  
JOHN: and, well... that's it.  
JOHN: jade, you are already a hero! and i think you have what it takes to pull off this bonkers yet completely necessary scheme for the sake of all mankind.   
JADE: ... :)  
JADE: wellllll turnabouts fair play!   
JOHN: huh?   
JADE: i think YOU have what it takes to make a lot of people happy, john!  
JADE: at least people who arent batterwitches ;p   
JOHN: pfffff  
JOHN: somehow that sounds WAY up my alley.   
JADE: good!! >:D

You close the final latch, lugging the whole kit and kaboodle off your bed. With an awkward (and belated) stumble, John moves as though to offer you help in carrying it, but you shake your head. You're both very quiet for a moment that stretches and stretches.

There's a part of you that thinks it would be the height of foolishness to give John a farewell hug, as if it might seal some sort of contract of finality.

You decide it's a good thing you're feeling pretty foolish today.

**Author's Note:**

> I fudged it a little when it came the skeet shooting - research suggests it was barely a new sport around the time this story takes place - and I hope I can be forgiven for that. u_u


End file.
